


Our World Alone Unto Us

by photonromance



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Blood, Drugged Sex, M/M, Mutilation, Sleepy Sex, Stockholm Syndrome, brainwashed!eggsy, brief hostage taking, killer!harry, mild drug use, serial killer au, victim hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3657924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/photonromance/pseuds/photonromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Hart leaves Kingsmen, tired of pursuing bad guys to sate his violent urges. He takes to killing who he chooses, how he chooses, creating meaning out of their broken, imperfect bodies. Eggsy is still his protege, his perfect boy. He didn't start quite perfect, of course, but Harry is a master craftsman when it comes to humanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our World Alone Unto Us

**Author's Note:**

> I've been on a bit of kick where I want all of my saintly characters to kill instead of saving. In this piece, (inspired by [this](http://commanderkokoro.tumblr.com/post/113617605877/consider-me-mental-but-the-idea-of-harry-as-a)) we have our beloved Harry Hart as an infamous serial killer. Sweet Eggsy joins him, a victim in his own way, a loving devotee in another.

Harry Hart is not gentleman spy any more. Not that he isn't a gentleman, he will always strive to be better than his former self, faultlessly polite, and kind in all things. But Harry is also a killer. No longer in the service of King and Country, but in the pursuit of his own pleasure. Harry Hart is brutal and hungry beyond his own control. And so he has chosen, to slake the desire in his belly, murder. But oh, such artful murder. Beautiful displays made of _rude_ people, their barbarism washed away in blood and agony. His victims made perfect, inhuman in their cold purity.

Harry Hart knows that manners maketh man. 

This man is accompanied everywhere by a beautiful boy. Where Harry is a study in poise and gentility, his boy is not quite the same. Oh, he's dressed beautifully, suit tailored and hair parted and combed just so. He's never a crease out of place, just like Harry, but his eyes are not so cold. He smiles sweetly and crouches in the dirt to talk with children on a dusty street in Italy. He talks to them with only kindness, in lightly accented Italian. When he leaves, the children wave and talk around the sweets he always leaves them.

The boy's name is Eggsy. At least, that's what Harry calls him. Only softly. Only in the dark of their bedroom or the privacy of their opera box, nuzzling against his ear while Eggsy's breath grows short under the knot of his tie as Harry draws it gently tighter over his throat.

The children call him _Young Mister Hart_. Most everyone in the little town does. They all know exactly what he and the Senior Mister Hart get up to after having drinks at the cafe and walking along the beach until the sun is set and the town begins to sleep. What the townspeople cannot fathom are their activities when they vanish now and then on "business".

Harry likes to hunt. He likes to steal Eggsy out to the opera or a ballroom where they can dance and enjoy themselves while his eyes scan the crowds for his next project. His boy seems to savor the hunt as well. But differently. He nuzzles into Harry's throat and dares to lick at the steady pulse under his lips. The taste there is familiar. Feral. There is salt and soap and the faintest edge of the creature inside the gentleman unfurling and stretching under his hands.

The killer awakens and Eggsy thrills. 

Eggsy kisses his lover just to be bitten and when the bittersweet taste of blood blooms on his tongue, Eggsy blooms with it. When Harry turns him, perfectly in time with their dance, of course, he zeros in on their target without Harry's direction.

He's perfect. Sloppy drunk on cheap whiskey and bad tequila, the fool is putting his hands on a young lady that looks ready to cry.

"I want him." Harry whispers, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down Eggsy's spine. "Maybe filleted open on his hotel bed. A boy that can't keep his hands to himself should have them stitched to his sides." 

Eggsy turns, but only to smash their mouths together. "Let me?" He asks, breathless, "Can I give him the rohypnol? Please Harry?"

"You love to let them sleep." Harry murmurs into his mouth, "Such a sweet boy, my Eggsy. Such a gentle boy."

Eggsy does dose the man. Laughs with him all the way to the cab waiting outside where the man begins to fall. "I'll be up for it," He insists, "F-fuck you till you- you're crying."

"I know that." Eggsy soothes him in soft Portuguese, "But you should sleep for now. Doesn't that sound lovely? Just a little sleep, yes?" Eggsy strokes his hair and coddles the drooling idiot until they're safely in his hotel room.

Harry is waiting for them. They've only been in the cab a few minutes, just the ride here and already Eggsy misses his lover. He drops the unconscious man on the bed and hurries back into Harry's arms, nuzzling close and humming when he's petted like a particularly obedient pup.

"You're such a good boy." Harry tells him, kissing at the sore little tear in Eggsy's lip until is begins to bleed again. "My darling boy."

Softly, breathed into the collar of Harry's shirt, Eggsy makes his plea. "May I stay?"

Harry pulls back in surprise. "You never stay while I work, darling." He searches Eggsy's face, his broad hands moving to cup his jaw. Eggsy whines, turning into his hold and kissing the inside of his wrist. "You know how it makes you feel some times, love." Harry reminds him. He strokes the pad of his thumb just under Eggsy's eyes tenderly. The memories of tears so long ago still make him ache.

When Harry left Kingsmen, fled to keep his life and his new hungers with it, Eggsy had cried. He had cradled an unconscious Merlin against his chest as Harry secured them both in the lab. Eggsy had pleaded for Merlin's life. Offered his own in return. "Collateral." Eggsy had said, "If you agree to stay out of their way, I'll stay with you and they'll leave you alone. If you need leverage, you have me." He had loved Harry, even then. The killing had been easy but the butchery had reduced Eggsy to panic and tears in the beginning. But soon enough, he came to see the artistry in Harry's work. Learned to love the predator inside his gentleman. 

"Perhaps in the living room?" Eggsy offers, "I won't bother you, I promise."

"I'm not worried about that, love." Harry hushes him, "I Just don't want you hurt." Eggsy nods, cuddling in to Harry's arms. Harry is quiet a few moments, stroking Eggsy's hair out of place. "Perhaps if you took half of a sleeping tablet." He murmurs, "You'll only have to remember what you're ready for."

"But when you need-" Eggsy's hand falls to Harry's hip, glancing down, "I know how you get after..."

Harry only smiles, tucking Eggsy under his chin. "I could wake you." He offers, "With the pill, I wouldn't have to wash up. I imagine you wouldn't remember if it was too much."

Eggsy's pulse picks up and he shivers in excitement. "I would like that."

Eggsy takes what Harry gives him and lies down on the couch until it kicks in. He's not quite asleep, not exactly awake, a strange in-between phase where he's aware of Harry tucking his jacket around his shoulders, but not the kiss pressed into his temple. 

He dozes for what feels like hours, halfway between dark, warm sleep and the dim lights of the hotel room. When Harry returns, his hands are smeared in blood. There's a spatter across his cheek and spray peppers his forearms. His hair is loose and his eyes are wild and bright. He makes Eggsy's heart trip. "Oh Harry." He breathes, trying to raise his arms and succeeding only slightly. 

Harry guides him the rest of the way, kneeling on the edge of the couch to kiss him. "I want you." Harry murmurs, "Want you so badly, my sweet boy."

"Can have me." Eggsy opens for him, parting his leg sluggishly, "Take what you need, Harry."

"My precious boy." Harry sighs, fingers moving down to open his trousers and tug them down. Eggsy doesn't move much, just sighs and cries out softly as Harry opens him and finally, finally, fills him.

Harry is meticulous about their clothes, he always is, and even now he is careful to keep the blood from staining Eggsy's shirt. His pants are dark enough to bear the stain. He doesn't restrain himself from stroking blood over Eggsy's cheek and forehead in his pursuit of pleasure. It's still hot, a blessing that makes Eggsy thrill. He's not ready to share a kill, but it becomes a nearer thing each time.

Eggsy comes, but in a distant way, washing through his chest and making his breath hitch. Once Harry's sated himself in Eggsy, he cleans them up a little, just enough to be presentable, and helps him to his feet.

"Would you like to see him?" He asks softly, straightening Eggsy's jacket on his shoulders. The prospect is frightening, but exciting, and Eggsy holds tight to his hand as he's guided to the bedroom.

Harry always arranges his projects artfully. Always aims to provide refinement for the disgraceful victims he chooses. This is no exception. The once drunken man is naked, arranged to look sprawled, a carefree young man, asleep in repose. Except his limbs are not properly attached at the shoulder, wrist, knee and hip. It's jarring against his relaxed shape on the bed. Eggsy grins at it, turning to kiss at Harry's mouth. "He's lovely." He sighs, "Your fans will adore it."

Harry grins into his lips, nipping at that raw little cut on his mouth once again. "As long as you like it, darling, I'm satisfied." 

Eggsy laughs, still a little drunk on the sleeping pill, and lets Harry lap at the blood flowing again from his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> You're not forgetting things, I did change up a little and add here and there, things that bothered me. But editing is now closed and I'm calling it!


End file.
